


What Comes Around

by Dragonbat



Category: Protector of the Small - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Background Character Death, F/M, Future Fic, Major Original Character(s), Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-02-17
Updated: 2012-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-06 14:53:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonbat/pseuds/Dragonbat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fifteen Years after Lady Knight, Kel is now the training master and Nealan of Queenscove is a widower with two children. When he accompanies his daughter to Corus for her page training, Kel finds that a lot of her old feelings are still there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Kel, Nealan, Yuki, and Quinden are created and owned by Tamora Pierce. At this writing, Nealan's daughter has not yet been named in canon. I've chosen to call her Akemi.
> 
> A/N: The first two chapters of this fic were written for the SMACKDOWN competion at Goldenlake. I'm planning to add to them.
> 
> A/N: This fic was born during a pairings tournament. The rules were simple: Write a Kel/Other Character fic of at least 100 words, and that pairing earned a point to advance toward the next round. Each post had to make sense as a standalone chapter, read independently of what had gone before. I wrote two chapters in this manner before the tournament ended and I decided to continue it. The problem I found was that because of the 'rules' for the initial chapters, the subsequent ones were a good deal shorter than my normal posts and it felt like it would upset the 'rhythm' of the story to suddenly go from 500-word chapters to 2500-words. The fic is currently stalled, but I haven't lost interest. I'm just trying to get back into that headspace and eventually add more. I can't say when that will be, but it's probably going to happen down the road.

How was it possible, Kel wondered, for a person to have changed so little, and yet, so much, over the years? He still had the same vivid green eyes, partly covered by the same brown hair that fell from the same widow's peak, the same slightly mocking smile. But the hair was thinner, the eyes sadder, and the smile had a seriousness that she had once only seen in rare flashes. He'd aged, but then, so had she. Still, seeing him again brought back old feelings she'd thought she'd long outgrown. Her heart quickened as he spoke. His appearance might have changed, but his voice was the same.

"You'll keep an eye on Akemi?" he asked. "I… she's rarely left Queenscove, since Yuki…" he made the sign of the gods-circle on his chest.

Kel followed suit. Five years ago, Yukimi had been part of a Tortallan trade delegation bound for the Yamani Islands. She had never reached it. Instead, the ship, and all aboard it, had been lost in an out-of-season storm. Kel remembered the funeral. Akemi, who had been all of nine years old, had been weeping silently, her tears incongruent with her Yamani features. It had been Neal who had seemed to be stoic and stone. At least, until Kel had seen his eyes.

They were still sad today, she reflected, although time had softened the grief, mellowed it. Looking at them made her heart ache, and she glanced toward the door of her office. Akemi was sitting outside, now, in the anteroom across the hall. "You know I will," she said firmly. "Although she'll have to succeed on her own, just as we did."

"True," and for a moment his green eyes smiled, "but at least she'll never need to deal with the Stump."

Now Kel grinned. "No. You're sending her here to deal with the _Lump_." She shook her head. "I actually wanted to throttle Quinden when he called me that in front of his eldest," she admitted. "Of course the name stuck. Not that I'm supposed to know about it." She rolled her eyes. "At least, Akemi won't be the only girl among the pages."

"No, but she's probably going to be the oldest." He sighed. "I know I should have sent her years ago, but after Yuki, I couldn't. And she didn't ask until last spring." He smiled. "I'd hoped to spare her my happy experience, though I _am_ glad she'll be under your guidance. His Majesty made the right decision when Padraig Ha-Minch retired as training master."

"I didn't believe that, at first," Kel admitted, "but I have to admit I'm enjoying it." Her eyes narrowed. "How _are_ you, Neal? Really?"

"Me?" Neal smiled. "Oh, I'm… well enough."

"Eating your vegetables?" She smiled back. "You know they're good for you."

" _You're_ good for me," Neal said softly. "You have been since we were children."

Kel took a deep breath. "I'm," her hands were trembling, but she knew that if she didn't say something now, it might be another fifteen years before another opportunity would present itself. "Nealan?" she said softly. "I'm not a child anymore..."


	2. Chapter 2

" _I'm not a child anymore_." Kel's words seemed to hang in the air between them like one of Prosper's light spells. As the full implication of those five words sank in, Neal saw Kel's face go blank as she quickly dropped her eyes to her desk and picked up her quill.

"You and Akemi should make your farewells, now," she said steadily, with no hint of the quaver that her voice had betrayed a moment ago. "It's been good to see you again."

Neal stood stock-still before her, barely moving, barely breathing. "Kel. I… I had no idea. You never said a word," he managed.

She gave him a rueful smile. "Did you ever talk about your feelings to Daine? To Uline? We were a small group, Neal. If I'd brought up feelings that you didn't reciprocate, what might that have done to our little band?" She shook her head. "This palace may be a labyrinth, but it's not always easy to stay out of someone's way. Particularly not when you're expected to train with them. My saying something back then could have destroyed our friendship. I valued it," she whispered. "Too much to want to risk that."

"Sacrifices had to be made." It came out with the same old drawl, but tinged more with regret than with bitterness.

Kel looked up at him, her face carefully blank. "Exactly." She sighed and went back to her paperwork.

"And all this time…"

Now she smiled. "Oh, I wasn't writing poetry to your left bicep," she retorted. "There've been others that I cared for. A few, I even loved."

"And?"

"My feelings changed. Or they died. Or they married for duty. Or they married for love." She made a face. "And then there were a few who thought that what hazing and scut-work wouldn't do, marriage and children would: keep me at home and off of the duty rolls." She shook her head. "Don't think I have regrets, Neal. Yuki was right for you. Anyone could see it. And there are worse things in life than being unattached."

Neal sighed. "I shouldn't keep my daughter waiting," he said, "but I'd like to continue our decision later. Will you be eating with the pages and squires?"

"Yes, of course." Where else would the training master eat?

"I'll join you later then, if I may." He hesitated. "We still have a lot to catch up on." For a moment, he smiled. "Well. This conversation _has_ been quite illuminating. You could almost bar the shutters and still have light to work by."

Kel's lips twitched. "Go to Akemi. She needs you." She took a deep breath. "I'll see you at supper."


	3. Chapter 3

Akemi of Queenscove completed her third circuit of the courtyard outside the pages' wing. Not for the first time, she wondered whether coming here had been a mistake. She'd known that she was going to be older than her year-mates. She'd shrugged at that. Her father had been slightly older when he'd started page training.

Her father, however, had not had a younger sibling who was already a third-year page. She hadn't seen Emry in nearly two years. Then, he'd looked up to her. Now? He was already halfway to squirehood. He'd probably end up her page-sponsor—Father had told her that they encouraged kinsmen to stick together here. Maybe one of her Haryse cousins would be willing. Tilian was fourth-year and fifteen. They got along well—or at least they had when they were children.

A brother was closer than a cousin, though, she reminded herself glumly.

I could have waited two more years, she thought. I still wouldn't have been the oldest page in history. And even if I had been… so what? Someone has to be the oldest.

Could she really do this? Spend the better part of the next four years in Corus, far from her home and most of her family? What if the training master pushed her harder than the others? Father had told her often that the Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan had managed to fit weapons practice into every spare moment. Would she expect that of all the girls?

"Are you going to wear a groove in the path?" an amused voice called out.

Startled, Akemi whirled to see a girl of about eleven standing behind her. Her dark hair was skinned back tightly and braided in a style practiced by some of the K'mir tribes. Akemi put a hand up self-consciously to her own hair, still not used to feeling it cropped so short. "I was thinking," she said, wincing as she heard the snap in her voice. She lowered her eyes. "Sorry."

"For thinking?" The girl grinned. "Just because so few people do doesn't make it anything that warrants an apology. I'm Sharlat Batukhan, by the way."

"Akemi." Unbidden, the memory of her mother's voice rose up, chiding her for the informality of her introduction. "Of Queenscove." She reminded herself to smile.

Sharlat bowed as low as etiquette required. "Are you lost, my lady? This is the page's wing. I'd be happy to direct you to where you'd like to go."

"No," she said shortly. "I'm in the right place." She might as well say it outright—by suppertime, everyone would know. "I start page training this year."

Her companion blinked. "But you're ol…" she caught herself. "I mean…" She took a deep breath. "That thinking thing that you were doing. Maybe I should practice it before I open my mouth."

This time, Akemi didn't have to force the smile. "I _am_ old to be starting," she said firmly. "I'll be twenty-two before I earn my shield." _If_ she earned her shield. "But in eight years time, I'll likely be twenty-two regardless, so I may as well work for it. Besides," she said airily, "starting late is practically a family tradition."


	4. Chapter 4

Keladry of Mindelan closed her eyes tightly and massaged her temples. Why, why had she brought up her past feelings for Neal? _And they aren't so much in the past, are they?_ She asked herself dryly. Seeing him had stirred up emotions she couldn't afford to let herself feel now.

She sighed. In a little over an hour, she would supervise the older pages as they selected newcomers to sponsor. Then, it would be her duty to repeat once again the instructions that she had been giving at the start of each academic year. They were fairly basic, the same rules she'd had to abide by when she'd started her training: pages were not to become physically involved with one another. There could be no flirtations. A girl and a boy would not be permitted to be alone together in an enclosed room without a chaperon…

Kel shook her head. When she'd been in training, she hadn't thought about that sort of thing. She'd had one eye on her classwork and the other on her shield. Where boys were concerned, her romantic inclinations—at least during her page years—had been one-sided.

The time for love, or at least infatuation, had been later—after she'd become a squire.

The current crop of youngsters, though… Kel grimaced. She'd welcomed the presence of more girls in the page ranks. She still thought it was a wonderful thing. But she wasn't used to the older pages trying to catch each other's attentions. She thought back. Neal had written secret love poems to virtually every noble girl his age. Cleon had called her foolish nicknames. But she didn't recall any of them being so… _silly_ with one another.

The conservative elements of the court were only too eager to herald this development as the end result of allowing girls to train as knights. It was just as they'd always claimed: the presence of females was too distracting. Kel didn't want to believe it. But then she'd heard the court ladies saying that sending their dowerless girls for page training was one way to ensure that they'd be able to make their own way in the world. While she had no objection to that sentiment, what the woman had said next had been more bothersome...

"And perhaps, once those boys get to know my Dassia, one of them may yet approach us for her hand. I tell you, it's a mercy she won't need to enter temple orders after all!"

They hadn't seen her as they'd moved on. Thankfully. Kel wasn't at all sure what she would have said to them, but it would have taken all her Yamani calm to avoid screaming. Page training was not a marriage market!

Maybe... maybe she wasn't the right person to train these youths, after all.


	5. Chapter 5

For the third time, Akemi examined herself in the full-length mirror in her dressing room. She still wasn't used to wearing her hair cropped this short. She kept putting her hand to her head, expecting to touch the upswept bun that she had worn for the last two years, and feeling that something was not right each time she found empty air instead. Even now, seeing her reflection, she couldn't quite believe that it was she.

Cutting it, her father assured her, had been a necessity.

"My dear girl, in the time that it would take you to wash and pin it up, an enemy might overrun any troops you might hope to one day lead. And in the interim… pages don't sit down to meals until they've all assembled. Keeping hungry young warriors waiting won't win you many friends."

Akemi sighed. She was sure that she'd have found time to keep her hair presentable; if not pinned up Yamani-style, then tied back with ribbons. Perhaps, she could grow it out and wear it in a braid, like Sharlat wore hers. She thought about that for a moment. Her father had also advised her that keeping her hair short would give an opponent one less thing to grab in a fight. It made her wonder how the K'mir girl managed.

She tugged on her tunic to straighten the hem and made sure that her breeches were still neat and her boots unscuffed. The training master had worn dresses to supper when she'd been a page, Father had said, but Akemi was happiest when not hobbled by long skirts. Besides, she reflected ruefully as she examined her tunic again, if the object of the exercise was to make sure that the boys knew that she was female, one look at her chest ought to accomplish that. Not that she was fantastically well-endowed in that regard, she admitted, but there was something noticeable there.

There was a knock on her door. She waited a moment for her maid to answer it, then caught herself when she remembered that she had no maid here. Grandfather Baird hadn't considered a personal servant necessary for her father, and her father told her that he saw the need to alter tradition when she'd broached the subject.

"Isn't allowing a girl to go for page training altering tradition?" she'd demanded.

That had been when her father had ordered her to the castle library to research the names and accomplishments of the nineteen lady knights born to Queenscove who had served the crown in centuries past. (She'd vaguely recalled hearing about the two listed on the Great Roll of Knights in the Hall of Crowns, but the others had been news to her.)

"Sending you to Corus isn't breaking a tradition," her father had informed her when she'd returned several hours later with her report. "It's re-establishing one."

Akemi sighed. For a progressive, her father could sometimes be downright conservative.

The knock came again, and she got up and pulled the door open. She blinked. "Emry?"

Her younger brother grinned. "It's good to see you again, 'Kemi. I didn't think father would ever send you."

"Neither did I," she said flatly.

"Your hair looks… different."

She fought down a wave of annoyance. "It's been cut."

Emry shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the next.

"Was there anything else?" she demanded irritably. Just because they were siblings didn't mean they had to spend all their time together, did it?

"Just… I hope you weren't expecting… what I mean is… Riordan…"

"Our Masbolle cousin?" She knew him slightly from extended-family gatherings, but with a four-year age gap between them, she'd rarely moved in his circle of friends. He was well enough, she supposed. "What of him?"

Emry took a deep breath. "Would you be offended if I asked to sponsor him and not you? It's just, I'd feel funny shepherding my older sister around and you'd probably hate it, too."

She would, she knew, but his words still hurt. As much as she'd been dreading the prospect, she would have accepted it. "Sure, Emry," she said, picturing her mother's calm and trying to borrow a measure of it now. "That's fine."

Emry blinked. "It is? Really?"

She nodded.

He smiled. "Thanks, 'Kemi! You're the best!" He clapped her warmly on the shoulder and tore off down the corridor.

Akemi watched him go. _Now_ who was going to sponsor her?


	6. Chapter 6

Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan willed herself once more to be as stone. It would never do to show any signs of nervousness. Lord Wyldon had always been stern. His behavior on the first evening had set the tone for the year to come. As much as she wanted to be friend and confidant to the young boys and girls in her care, there would be time for that later. For now, just as she had done for over a decade in the field, her first order of business was to establish her authority. Once they knew that she was in command, she would be able to relax somewhat.

She looked at the stack of parchments before her. Classes were larger now than they had been when she'd been a page. There were twenty new first-years: twelve boys, eight girls. And nearly three times that number of more senior pages. Even in war, she'd rarely commanded a force of eighty, she thought, as she permitted herself a small smile.

The supper bell would be sounding any moment. She got up quickly and headed for the pages' wing. She arrived just as the first chime sounded. As she'd expected, all seventy-five pages stood stiffly before their doors. Some of the newer ones were looking around in mingled fear and excitement. The others, knowing what was expected, stood straight at attention, hands clasped behind their backs, eyes forward.

It was time. Kel took a deep breath and began to walk slowly down the hallway. As she did, she could hear the more senior pages falling into step behind her. When she reached the other end of the hall she turned. The boys and girls parted before her, moving to either side as she advanced through them. Only the twenty first-years remained by their rooms, now. Kel looked at them, waiting.

One of the boys bowed. As though the gesture had broken a spell, the other boys followed suit. Five of the girls did, as well. The other three curtseyed. The smallest of them—Jocosa of Tameran, Kel recalled—giggled nervously.

Kel smiled. "I wasn't certain myself which etiquette to observe, when I was a page," she stated frankly. A ripple of amusement passed through the crowd. Kel continued. "While it's certainly proper for young women to curtsey, I'd recommend against it. You'll soon find that it's a difficult maneuver to execute without tangling your sword in your legs," she continued seriously.

Someone started to laugh, then choked off abruptly when he realized that he was the only one.

Kel waited for silence. "You'll all face difficulty enough, this year. You'll work hard. You'll work when you're sick when you're tired, and when your limbs ache and burn. You'll work when you're positive that you can't work anymore, but you press on. You will find inner reserves, or you will leave.

"You have one more day of freedom before your training commences. Your sponsor will acquaint you with the palace and take you to collect that which the crown supplies for you. The day after that, we begin."

She pointed to the boy who had snickered. "You." The boy gulped. "Your name and the holding of your family."

"Gavan, Lady Knight," he managed. "Gavan of Disart."

She could detect a slight resemblance to her former classmate in the shape of his chin, though she'd never have thought that he and Balduin were related. She looked around at the older pages. "Which among you will take responsibility for sponsoring Gavan and teaching him our ways?"

"If I may, Lady Knight?" A chestnut-haired girl stepped forward with a bow. "He _is_ my brother, after all."

"And family should watch out for one another," Kel nodded. "So be it, Rowena of Disart."

Next, she approved the sponsorship of Jocasa with Gwethalyn of Hollyrose and Riordan of Masbolle with Emry of Queenscove. That one was a bit of a surprise—she'd assumed that Emry would want to sponsor his sister, particularly after Rowena's proclamation. She let it pass, though, continuing down the row of new pages. Lionel of Trebond spoke for Arshad ibn Zahir, Belvedere of Genlith for Joren of Runnerspring, Paxton of Tasride for Yvan of Seabeth and Seajen…

"Akemi of Queenscove."

"Who speaks for Akemi?"

She saw Tilian of Haryse start to speak when a new voice replied, "If it please, my lady? We've met earlier."

Kel nodded. "Very well, then, Sharlat Batukhan," she agreed, not missing Akemi's guarded smile.

Another dozen paired and the ordeal was over. Kel took a deep breath. "Well. I would imagine you were all hungry, when you came out here, and this exercise has lasted long enough to aggravate matters. Supper."

She walked off briskly, knowing that the others would follow her to the dining hall…where Neal would be waiting. Kel swallowed. In the wake of her shocking admission earlier, she realized that she had no idea what she was going to say when she faced him now.


	7. Chapter 7

He was already seated when Kel led the pages into the dining hall. She stood waiting as the boys and girls took trays and lined up at the servers. Some of the first-years immediately took their seats, but a nudge from their page-sponsors brought them quickly to their feet once more.

She waited until the last of them had been served, before she led them in the prayer and sat down. The youths followed suit.

Kel smiled. This evening, they ate as nobles at a banquet, daintily spearing tiny bites. In three days time, they would be wolfing their food down as though they hadn't eaten in weeks. She looked over to Neal. "It just seems like yesterday that we were down there," she remarked.

"Still going on hazing patrol?"

Kel shook her head ruefully. "I've told them that bullying will not be countenanced. I'm sure it goes on without my knowledge, though. If I hear of a situation, I deal with it, but I don't patrol anymore."

Neal raised his eyebrows.

Kel sighed. "I wish I could get the truth out of them, when something does happen, but they're just as... as clumsy as we were. They all just keep falling down."

"Ah, yes," Neal drawled. "Makes you wonder how anyone ever gets through the practice courts without stumbling over their big feet."

She grimaced. "I'm less able to stop these things now than I was when I was ten." She glanced up and saw that Akemi was watching them, her expression unreadable.

"Guess that's one way to make sure you pass the little examinations, Queenscove." Kel glanced two tables over, to see one of the third-years nudging Emry. "Get your father to romance the training master!"

The younger Queenscove elbowed the speaker sharply in the ribs. "Shut it, Nond."

Collin of Nond laughed. "I don't know, I heard she used to throw herself at him."

"Collin of Nond," Kel raised her voice, "shall I make inquiries as to whether a town in the vicinity requires a crier?" To Neal, she added, "some things never change."

"He gets it from his father," Neal sniffed.

"His mother is my sister," Kel pointed out. "He uses that. Adie still sees me as the baby of the family. If I come down hard on him, she insinuates I don't know the first thing about teaching."

"So you back down?" Neal said, raising his eyebrows once more.

"Goddess, no," Kel said. "I just avoid speaking to her when she's in a mood. Still, mother doesn't like it when we don't get along. So I try." She took a mouthful of stew. "I do, really."

"You are of stone," Neal said softly.

She blinked. "How did you know about that?"

"Yuki."

Kel nodded. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"You can say her name, Kel. It's alright. She was your friend, too."

Kel nodded again. "Maybe we should meet elsewhere, though," she said hesitantly, "if it makes your children uncomfortable."

Neal grinned. "Dear Lady Knight," he remarked, "that's a parent's job."

"Just because your father—"

"—And his before him. And all others besides."

"Mine wasn't."

Neal blinked.

"Grandmamma, on the other hand..."

Neal grinned. "I suppose it occasionally skips a generation."

They shared a smile. Kel took a deep breath. "How long will you remain in Corus?"

"I'm not sure," Neal admitted. "I hadn't planned to stay longer than tonight, but," he frowned. "There really isn't much for me, at home. Not now. I have a steward looking after the affairs of the fief—Father's man. He's served three generations of us. I do look over the books, just so that I have an idea of my standing, but he knows what he's about. And it's going to be... lonely there, now."

"So..."

"Well, I've asked leave to stay on for the next day or two, and it's been granted. I'm having our townhouse aired. I'll decide before the snows block the mountain passes whether I'll winter there or head home before."

"Have you thought to join the palace healers?" Kel ventured.

"That was my father's path," Neal said with a nod. "I don't know if it's mine. And despite what I said a moment ago, I don't want to embarrass my children _too_ much. If it hadn't been for my own Gift..." His voice trailed off.

"What?" Kel asked, curious.

Neal sighed. "It was when my first summer camp, just before we met. My lessons with the Shang warriors had been... going along the lines of your first days with Peachblossom, if you take my meaning. I knew how to use a sword, of course, but I'd never seen anything to rival Shang combat, before. After I'd been soundly trounced and laid on my back, a few times, one of the third-years looked down at me and noted aloud that it was a pity that 'father wasn't there to kiss my hurts better'. He shrugged. "I cast a quick healing on myself and pitched him into the pond. Well, into the marsh. The mosquitoes were rather thick in that part of the countryside."

Kel snickered. "He deserved it."

"He did. I think that may have been the last time anyone tried to haze me." He sobered. "At any rate, I'm not necessarily seeking a palace position. But I do plan to be in the vicinity."

Kel nodded. "Neal," she said quietly, "this morning, when we spoke, I... I hadn't seen you in years. When I did, a lot of old feelings," she broke off. "I didn't pretend to stop caring for you," she tried again. "I... when Cleon and I were... were... courting," the wrong word, but it would suffice, "I didn't have those... feelings for you." She looked down. "I know of girls who'll take up with a lad they don't care for, either because they can't have the one they want, or because they wish to make him jealous. That wasn't me."

Neal smiled, and for once, the usual hint of mockery was absent. "I know that, Kel," he said.

"Neal, please," Kel pleaded, "let me finish. When you came today, I did." She took a deep breath. "I felt... what I used to feel. I've... it's always been like this. It's not that I've never loved—I have. But my feelings change."

Neal's lips twitched. "Kel, I'm staying in Corus for the next little while. That doesn't mean I've hired a crier to post our bans. I just," his green eyes took on an uncharacteristic note of seriousness. "I'd rather your friendship in Corus than... than my moping through the corridors of Queenscove while father keeps pointing out that many widowers in my position do marry again, even if they've already got an heir to follow them." He rolled his eyes. "He did, you know."

"I didn't. So you had a stepmother?"

Neal shook his head. "Father's first wife died giving birth to my eldest brother, Graeme. He, along with my other brother, Jared, died in the Immortals War."

"Oh." Kel looked at him. "So you..."

"Never would have been born at all, had father not married again. And he would have had no living heir." Neal made a face. "I detest when he talks that way, though. It smacks too much of ill-wishing on Emry."

"I can see that," Kel said, making the sign against evil on her chest.

Neal smiled. "If we don't eat something, your troop will still be seated here come breakfast time. Come now, Lady Knight," he said with a smile so like—and yet so unlike—the sardonic ones he'd flashed in years gone by. It was the same dry voice, but there was an undertone of sadness in both smile and voice that tore at Kel's heart. "Eat up," he finished. "Look, Kel." He used his knife to help his green beans onto his fork. "I'm eating my vegetables. Can you at least finish your fowl?"

Kel gave him a watery grin. "Sure, Neal," she said softly, and picked up a drumstick.

Neal waited until she'd nearly cleaned her plate before he spoke again. "Kel, what you said before about your feelings changing... have they ever changed _back_?"

She shook her head. "I don't believe so," she whispered.

"Well. Maybe that's something. Or maybe not." He sighed. "Gods, I don't mean to lead you on, either. I... I haven't seriously thought about another woman since Yuki. What you said... I'd never even considered the possibility."

"I know."

He winced. "You're as blunt as ever. The thing is, Kel... I'm... I'm not," he looked down, studying his fingertips. "I'm not opposed to exploring the possibility of there, perhaps, being a potential for..." He looked up. "Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan, might I call on you again, sometime soon?"

"On the clear understanding that this may never become anything more than ordinary friendship, in the end?"

Neal smile was almost boyish. "Friendship with you, Kel, is rarely ordinary, and always worth pursuing. May I have leave to call on you in future?"

Kel took a deep breath. "Yes."


	8. Chapter 8

Neal wasn't at breakfast the next morning. Kel wondered whether he was still sleeping, or whether he'd headed into the city early. If his family didn't use their townhouse often, it might require a considerable amount of work to render the building fit for habitation. While Kel hadn't made it her business to keep track of what all of her old friends were up to, she rather suspected that this might be the case. After all, Duke Baird had lived in his own private apartments within the palace. He would have had no need of another residence within the capital.

_That you know of_ , Kel reminded herself. It wasn't as though she'd been in Corus when the elder Queenscove had retired from his post. Once the Scanran war had ended and the armies disbanded, Kel had remained in Haven, taking care of the refugees. The northern fiefs had taken heavy damage in the conflict. It had been nearly three years before the last of her charges had been able to go back to their home fiefs—though not necessarily to their home villages. When Kel had finally been able to return to Corus, she'd learned that Neal and Yuki had gone back to Castle Queenscove to live, and, as far as Kel knew, they had lived quietly there. At least they had until Yuki had boarded the ship.

Kel sighed and looked around the dining hall. The pages were more than midway through the meal. She got to her feet and stood, watching and waiting. In a moment, the hall was silent. She took a deep breath.

"I trust," she began, "that you're enjoying your breakfast. You'll need your energy for what you mean to accomplish, so I expect all of you to eat your fill." She forced herself not to focus her attention on the two third-year pages she'd overheard yesterday talking about how their mothers had told them that they were of an age to think of young men, and that young men didn't think much of over-plump maidens. Last year, one of the pages had tried to incur bread-and-water suppers as punishment, hoping to lose weight unobtrusively. She had not been permitted to return this year, as much as Kel had hated having to make that decision. She hadn't been able to keep up with the others on scant rations. Kel had dismissed her with a note for her parents, urging them to consult a healer. "The training that you will commence tomorrow will be rigorous, exacting, and exhausting. There are no shortcuts. There are no excuses. Failure to perform to the level expected of you will have consequences, up to, and including summary dismissal."

She hated giving this speech—any speech, really, but this one in particular. She understood the necessity. Her former knight master, Raoul of Goldenlake had once told her that knighthood had never been intended for everyone. Those not meant for such a calling were best off leaving, whether by their own choice or by the order of their training master. It was better to make the decision earlier, as soon as it became clear that a youth would be a poor candidate for knighthood.

" _We do a lad—or a lass—no favor by making them think that they're suited for something when they aren't."_ She could almost hear his voice, now.

" _What if they can be suited but are just… slower?"_

" _If that's the case, and if they have the determination, they'll be back—or they'll find another path. How would you feel about putting your life in the hands of a well-meaning incompetent in a firefight? Because that's what you'll be asking of every one of their companions, if you allow such a pupil to remain. As training master, Kel, you have a responsibility to the Realm to provide the next generation of warriors and defenders. Part of that responsibility is making sure that everyone who completes page training is suited to become first a squire, and then a knight. You can't rely on the Chamber to sort out the bad apples from the good. Remember, it passed Ansil of Groten and a number of others who thought nothing of impugning the honor of a squire, because of her gender—or a standard bearer, because of his relative's deeds. And I've never yet seen a squire fail his Ordeal due to a weakness in his fighting prowess or his academics. The Chamber seems to focus on other flaws."_

Kel knew he was right, but she didn't relish such a task falling upon her shoulders. Pulling her thoughts back to the present, she continued.

"One aspect of knightly prowess which cannot be overlooked is physical stamina. To that end, there is a training group that meets each morning at dawn, which is meant to supplement your classes in armed and hand-to-hand combat. Attendance is not compulsory, but it is recommended for any candidate for knighthood—page or squire—who believes that their skills in these areas are in need of improvement."

"That means you _girls_!" someone jeered.

Kel looked at the speaker. "That means _everyone_ , Simon of Dunlath," she said sternly. "Report to me when you have finished your meal." She smiled at the rest of them. "Enjoy your breakfast—and your last day of freedom. Tomorrow, we begin."


	9. Chapter 9

After breakfast, Akemi went off in search of companionship closer to her own age. As much as she liked Sharlat, she didn't really want to spend all of her time with a twelve-year-old. When she'd confessed this to Sharlat, the K'mir girl had shrugged and said she'd be in the practice yards until lunch. That gave Akemi pause. Did everyone spend all their time fighting or studying—even before classes officially started? Her father hadn't mentioned that part of it when he'd read her bedtime stories about knights riding bravely into danger. She was all for learning how to be a knight—but surely there was some leisure time as well!

"So with Esme gone," she heard someone saying, "I've got to find someone for history, or I'll fail the big examinations. I know I will."

"Nobody fails," her companion scoffed. "Still, if you're that worried, perhaps we can ask Rowena's crowd if we can join them."

Akemi flinched. Why was she the only one here who wouldn't mind spending the day strolling through the gardens, or visiting the portrait gallery? Still, if schoolwork was the only thing anybody thought to talk about... She took a deep breath and trotted after the two girls. "I know history," she announced. Hadn't her father raised her on tales of days gone by? Couldn't she sound off the names of every Yamani ruler for the last three thousand years, their dynasties, and the dates of their reigns?

They turned and looked her up and down. The one who had suggested Rowena smiled. "It's Akemi, isn't it?" she asked. "I recognize you from last night. I'm Katrin, and this is Isobel."

Akemi smiled back but she felt her face flush. She was proud of her Yamani heritage, but sometimes she wished her features were more Tortallan. She didn't always like standing out in a crowd.

Isobel looked uncertain. "At the end of last year, we were studying at the stresses that caused the dissolution of the Thanic Empire, and the breakaway of Tortall. That's almost certainly where we'll start tomorrow. How much do you know about about the First Scanran Expedition?"

"I..." Akemi blinked. The Thanic Empire? The First Scanran... Expedition? Not _war_? Her father had touched on Tortall's Thanic roots and then gone almost immediately to the Barzun conquest in 378. Funny how she'd never noticed that there was a gap of over five centuries between the two events.

Katrin's smile turned apologetic. "I really think the teachers assume that we've been privately tutored in most academic subjects before arriving here, and then go out of their ways to find material we haven't learned, yet."

"I pick things up quickly," Akemi protested, knowing that it was futile.

"Well," Katrin said, "you're more than welcome to study with us, but it would be better to wait until you get your first assignments back before you start making offers."

Akemi did her best to smile. Maybe she shouldn't have insisted on coming here. Classes hadn't even started yet, but she already felt as though she was too far behind to ever catch up.


	10. Chapter 10

Nealan knocked on the door of her chambers an hour before first light. "I'm sorry if I woke you," he said cheerfully, "but as I recall, you always were an early riser."

Kel, already dressed, smiled graciously. "It hasn't changed," she confirmed, not mentioning that she had become an early riser because she enjoyed having some time to herself before the day began. "One moment, Neal, please." Her tone was apologetic. "The sparrows want their breakfast." So saying, she went to her clothespress, brought out two rolls she'd saved from last night's supper, and strode over to her window.

"And there's another thing that hasn't changed," Neal drawled.

"The door," Kel began automatically.

"...Stays open," Neal concluded. His eyebrows shot up. "Still?"

Kel sighed. "The palace is still a sieve, and people still talk. When the knights and squires return from their travels, they often come by my quarters to pay their respects. All of those strapping young men," she rolled her eyes, "alone with me and my seductive wiles. There's always talk, but there's less of it when the door stays open."

"People are fools," Neal said scornfully, but he hooked a small footstool with his ankle and manoeuvred it into place.

"I'm surprised Garvey sent his boys to you," Neal remarked. "Lord Burchard's grandsons are training in Tusaine now, from what I hear."

"As is the heir to fief Genlith," Kel nodded. "Although I will say that his younger brother is a pleasure to teach." She sighed. "Stone Mountain and Genlith aren't the only fiefs to make that choice. I suppose that in the long run, it makes my work easier. I imagine Tortallan patriotism came into play in fief Runnerspring."

"And Marti's Hill."

Kel sighed again, but she was smiling. "You remember my first year. At first the only friends I had were you and Prince Roald. Then, bit by bit, first Seaver and Faleron joined us, then Merric, then Cleon... It took a few years working together in the north, but Quinden did eventually come around. He's not really a bad sort," her eyes crinkled with a rare show of humor, "for a conservative."

Neal laughed. "I guess you'd best get a move on, if you're to lead that early morning drill."

"Oh, I don't do that," Kel smiled. "Sometimes the Shang warriors do. At other times, it may be the Watch, or Sergeant Trailfinder—Ezeko retired some years back. The pages will see enough of me each morning, as it is, and I of them," she added ruefully.

"Ah. So what do you do at this hour?"

"I normally have a cup of green tea and run the curtain wall," Kel said. "Today, though, I think it'll be staff practice," she smiled, "out of doors, in full view of the dawn class."

"If you mean for them to rise early, you want them to see you do the same." Neal sighed.

"If you'd like to join me," Kel ventured, "you're welcome to grab a weapon of your own."

Neal closed his eyes. "Do you," he asked slowly, "have any idea how long it took for my training bruises to fade?"

"I still have my bruise balm."

Neal ran his hand through his dark hair. Then he chuckled. "In that case, I believe I have a staff in my room. If you'll excuse me, Lady Knight, I'll return shortly."

Kel nodded. "I'll await your return to pour the tea."


End file.
